Slow Dancing with the Professor
by queenofowls
Summary: When the professor chooses Dimitri to represent their class in the White Heron Cup, he panics and begs Dedue to dance in his stead. Dedue has never danced before but thankfully Byleth has some experience... [Dedue/f!Byleth] Cover Art by: @tsuyuus [Twitter]


Dimitri looks at Dedue with panic-stricken eyes. "Please! You _must _go in my stead. Is that not what a vassal is for? To... to serve the king in his time of need?"

"I mean this with utmost respect but... you are not yet king, your Highness. And more importantly," Dedue says, his mouth set in a firm line, "I cannot dance."

"I just don't understand why the Professor would choose me of all people to learn to dance when I specifically _begged_ her not to choose me! You know that I have two left feet on a good day." Actually, Dedue had never seen Dimitri dance before... but he wisely chooses to say nothing. "Please, Dedue, I rarely ask anything of you... all you must to do is report to her for the practice session. I'm sure she'll be more lenient towards than you than I!"

_Will she?_ Dedue isn't so sure why Dimitri would think such a thing... but he shakes his head. "Fine. I will go, if you command it. But if the professor asks me to bring you... know that I will be forced to do so."

Dimitri nods quickly, scarcely listening as he pushes Dedue towards the door.

"Yes, yes. Understood. Feel free to report the matter to me afterwards. Just... please go."

* * *

Dedue hesitates outside of the professor's door, the setting sun behind him. The last time he was here...

The professor was not exactly... Well.

Frankly speaking, he had displeased her. Those dark, striking eyes, her set mouth, her furrowed eyebrows... It is an expression he never wants to see directed towards him again.

No, he... he would much rather see her praising him for his improving riding skills, or what he imagines is a tender look in her eyes as she watches him go through brawling drills. He wonders how she will feel when she opens the door and sees his face. His heart sinks for a moment. A man of Duscur approaching her... would she be crestfallen at his appearance? The prince is a much better suited companion, is he not?

He feels awkward as he reaches out to knock, his heart thumping heavily in his chest harder than he has ever felt it on a battlefield.

Her voice echoes on the other side. "Come in." He pushes open the doors, throat stiff. She is sitting at her desk, but when she looks at him... she simply says his name with no particular expression or inflection. He can't tell if the tight knot in his stomach is because that pleases him because it hits him at the same time as a twinge in his chest that he is certain is disappointment. What a strange mix of emotions. "Dedue. May I help you?" It's unnerving how unexpected he find this reaction above all... but he nods in reply, folding his hands behind him.

"I'm here to report for dance practice."

The professor pauses, glancing up from her desk to eye him flatly. He can only wonder what she is thinking. "If I recall, I chose Dimitri."

"Yes." He confirms awkwardly. That is what happened, after all. But... "Dimitri is unavailable. I am here to take his stead. If you will have me, I will be under your firm tutelage." A single brow lifts upwards, her expression particularly unamused.

"Is that so?" He doesn't repeat himself. After all, to offer himself is presumptuous when Dedue himself has never actually attempted to dance. How is he to know whether or not it would be a success? To his surprise, her expression softens. "Well, then." A ghost of a smile crosses her face, his eyes absorbing the expression to etch into his memory. "Let's see what you've got."

"Excuse me?"

"We're going to dance. Now." Dedue blinks unsteadily as she stands suddenly, holding out a hand. "If you're going to take his place, then you ought to be prepared, correct?" Dedue can hear the challenge in her voice. But... at the same time, he is completely uncertain about whether he can rise to it. Simply put, he does not know how to dance, and the idea of disappointing her... unsettles him.

"I have never danced. But if that is what you wish..." He trails off and takes her hand uncertainly. She doesn't even bother to reply, instead lacing her fingers in his. His other hand hanging limply to the side, Byleth ignores the twinge of amusement in her stomach at his helplessness and places her hand on his shoulder.

"Put your hand on my waist."

"Excuse me?" He echoes himself, so she takes his hand and positions it correctly.

"Just like..." He grips her waist uncertainly, the hesitation in his too-heavy hands almost making her laugh. "You wield axes, Dedue. Surely you can learn the trick to holding onto a woman's waist as you dance."

_Perhaps_, he thinks. Perhaps if she weren't the professor.

Because if she weren't the professor, then he could just divorce himself from the moment and do it with simple, strict duty in mind. But... the problem is the fact that it _is_ the professor, and he isn't sure he would be able to divorce any part of himself from her if he tried.

He looks down at Byleth. He has never stood so... so close to her. She's always been so strict, both on the battlefield and in the classroom and somehow, with him standing in her personal space... he feels like he is seeing her for the first time.

_Has she always been so... small?_ The hand gently clasped in his is so much more petite than his own, so pale in comparison. He tries his best not to marvel at how warm it feels to share this touch as to she eyes his posture for mistakes.

"Lift your elbows. And straighten up a little more." He does as she asks, lifting his head as well. A shame, too, because he somehow liked the way she looked from that angle, the light scent of flowers wafting from the crown of her dark hair. "Most importantly, relax those shoulders. You don't want to be stiff." So close to the professor, he isn't sure relaxing is possible for him. Oblivious, she continues. "Now." She steps forward slowly, directing his feet in the way he should go. "When I step forward with my left foot, you step back with your right foot. In fact, wherever I step, I want you to mirror it. If I turn, you turn. And _don't_ look down. Can you remember that?"

"I can try, professor." He says the words quietly, careful not to look down at his feet as he does so. Byleth takes a relaxed step forward, and he tries his best to follow, only messing up by a half step because of missed timing. She steps back and he follows. She steps again and he turns.

"Good. Now..." She trails off, the hand that rested on his shoulder slipping off as she turns her body. His hand seems to know what to do somehow as he twirls her gently. At the end of the turn, she tries to come back into his arms in the nonexistent rhythm, but he steps on her foot. "_Ow!_" Twice.

"Excuse me, I-" But she's already shaking her head.

"Less talking, more dancing." He... can accept that. There's no music, but there's some kind of peace to be had in this type of training. This isn't the usual type, true, but... He reflects on sight of her flushed expression as she winces once again as he missteps once more. He's never gotten to see to many new expressions on her face.

Dedue looks down at Byleth, tilting his head curiously. "Professor... is dancing a necessary skill for a mercenary?"

She lets out a quiet _'ha'_. "A question I once asked Jeralt. It's not a skill I've used until now, but apparently so."

"Do you... enjoy it?" She doesn't reply at first. For a moment, Dedue regrets asking. He normally doesn't speak so much and can't help but wonder if he's breached some unspoken social rule. But then...

"It depends on the partner." Her voice is quiet and she says no more than that. The partner...

He doesn't dare allow himself to think she means him. Instead, Dedue nods and tries to imagine Jeralt teaching Byleth to dance and- "_Ouch._" -promptly steps on her foot. Again.

Dedue decides then and there that he will stop thinking so much.

He's not sure how long he's in her room, holding her in his arms, twirling her when he feels brave, stepping on her feet again and again-but at last, whrn he attempts to turn and twirl her properly into his arms without his feet getting in the way, she slides into place, mostly in part because of the fact that Dedue's eyes are glued to the floor to ensure he does not harm her in some way with his clumsiness once again. "Oh!" Her voice is bright with pleasant surprise as, to his _great_ shock, the professor looks up at him suddenly, her eyes crinkled in a small, bright smile. "_Excellent_ work, Dedue. You did it."

Did what? Stopped the rains and brought the clearest of skies with her smile? He's not even sure he's ever seen her make this kind of carefree face before but it's his initial thought, especially as he realizes then that her face is so... close. If he wanted to... if she were willing, he could lean down and press his lips right against...

He doesn't allow himself to finish the thought, tightening his grip on the professor's waist instead to anchor him into the real world. For a moment, an image passes through his mind.

_His mother, stirring a pot as his father held her from behind, his forearms clasped together across her stomach as they swayed back and forth to no other music but the crackling fire below the pot._ He wonders if the professor has ever shared a dance like this with someone special. If this could ever be a dance that he... he shares with her.

For a moment, however short, Dedue hates his own thoughts.

How could he think such an impossible thing? _Even so..._ as he stares down at her, he is suddenly all the more aware of the fact that the professor... his professor... is a woman, not just the person he follows into battle. As he tries his best to follow her lead, he thinks to himself that he... he would not feel uncomfortable if she led him onto another dance.

Especially if, in at least one, he was able hold her small frame and soft skin tightly pressed against his chest while they swayed steadily to the slowest of songs. The imagined thought grabs him by the throat and holds him captive.

_His body pressed against the professor from behind as she followed his suggestions in making the meal. He would wrap his arms around her body just like his father had with his mother once upon a time. He would sway her side to side in a dance that needed no music. He would press his lips against her neck and anticipate another new reaction. Would her skin grow red under his lips, her expression hidden? Would she turn her face towards him and give him a sharp glare as his mother at times did towards his father? Would she turn her face, eyes shut as she cranes upwards in an effort to receive a kiss...?_

**"Ouch!"** Interrupting his thoughts, Byleth clears her throat, wincing from forms sensation of one of his feet crushing hers _again_ as she slides her hand from his shoulder. "That ought to do it for now." _Oh._

"So soon." He doesn't mean to say it, but the words slide directly from his heart, embarrassing him before he can stop them. Dedue carefully composes his face, staring down into her eyes with an unreadable expression as his other hand still rests lightly against her waist. Byleth pauses, hesitating for the smallest sliver of a second before forcing herself to let go of their clasped hands. She isn't sure what to say in reply, isn't sure what that expression means but the warmth of his hands seeping into her skin has her heart is fluttering when it really, _really _shouldn't be.

"Tell Dimitri to report to me tomorrow." Byleth's voice is so soft that Dedue feels strangely uneasy. _Has he failed her?_

"Professor? Am I lacking as a substitute?"

He is no natural prodigy, true but... Byleth considers his hand in hers, his large comforting presence, even the fact that she almost closed the space between them and rested her head against his chest so they could sway together.

She leads him to the door.

"No. But I've already assigned the part. Dimitri ought to speak with me directly if he has concerns." Dedue nods slowly.

"I thought as much," he admits.

They say nothing, staring at each other with nothing between them air and tangled, hidden thoughts and feelings. Slowly, Dedue lowers himself into a deep bow. "My... apologies for stepping on your feet so many times. Goodnight."

She barely has a chance to respond as he retreats from her bedroom, heading off in the direction of Dimitri's dormitory with hurried steps.

Byleth can't help herself. She watches him as he goes, telling herself that it is dark and she should keep an eye on him. A more daring version of herself would've insisted on actually accompanying him in the darkness to escort him to the dormitory but... instead, her eyes light along his broad shoulders, fingers tickling with the memory of his rough palms against her skin. Byleth forces herself to stop watching his retreating back and firmly shuts the door.

He is certainly someone that could be taught, but...

She stares at the wooden frame and imagines for a moment the he returns again, asks for another dance.

But _certainly_ not by her.


End file.
